


At the Fountain

by Morgana



Category: Buffy the Vampire Slayer
Genre: F/M, Songfic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-01-01
Updated: 2010-01-01
Packaged: 2017-10-05 17:26:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,729
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/44159
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Morgana/pseuds/Morgana
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Spike has one last gift for Buffy in the aftermath of NFA</p>
            </blockquote>





	At the Fountain

The sun was setting when he reached Rome. After checking in and being shown up to his room, there was enough time for a short nap and shower before starting out on his search. The demons he'd talked to on the train had said she usually stopped by the Trevi fountain at some point, so he'd staked out a spot nearby on the Via Del Corso. With a soft sigh, he closed his eyes and began to sing, memories drifting through his mind, each song carefully chosen for maximum impact.

There was Cordelia, who had returned from the dead to aid them, whose love was realized with ‘The Greatest Love of All’. For Gunn he delved into the gospel music that he knew the other man had loved, raising his voice in ‘Amazing Grace’. Sweet Fred had been their sunshine, and he barely held back the tears as he repeated the last song he'd ever heard her sing. The old English folk song ‘Flow Gently Sweet Afton’ was for Wesley, the smooth melody and love-filled lyrics a fitting testament to his grief. Angel was recalled in the sad strains of ‘The Fields of Athenry’, for hadn't he lost it all in the name of honor and love? And Spike, the feisty poet, lived again in the sweet tones of ‘Early One Morning’

“C’mon, Will! I just have to make this one stop and then we can get going.”

“But Buffy, we've been by here every night this week! Why do we have to keep coming here?”

The Slayer ignored her friend’s protests, the same way she often did her sister’s, her Watcher’s and her lover’s. She didn't know why she came to the Trevi, but she had every night since she arrived in Rome, tossing a coin in with the same silent wish/prayer, and it never failed to leave her with a sense of peace and hope. Digging into her pocket for the coin, Buffy closed her eyes as she sent her thoughts winging heavenward. She could hear one of the street singers that were scattered throughout the city, although this one was noticeably better than most.

It took a few moments for the words and melody to penetrate her brain and when it did, she gasped. That was Spike’s song! A glance at Willow showed the redhead recognized the song as well, and they both went hurrying over to the source of the music. Buffy had grown used to the sight of demons on the streets, especially after the Immortal explained that he'd made a bargain with the city’s police for mutual sanctuary. But most of them still kept to the shadows out of habit, instead of singing for tourists by the Trevi. And this one seemed to go out of his way to be noticed, for he was wearing a bright yellow suit, that, oddly enough, complemented his green skin.

Willow gasped, recognizing Lorne from Cordelia’s emails and her own brief acquaintance when she'd gone to LA to restore Angel’s soul and bring Faith back to Sunnydale. But what had brought him to Rome, and was it just him or had the entire gang come to visit? She kind of hoped they had - it had been nice to see them, even if there hadn't been much time for conversation. Maybe now they could all sit down over dinner and catch up on the last several years. Buffy glanced at her friend, wondering if she was all right. Willow mouthed, “Angel’s friend,” and she nodded, not sure quite what that might mean for their small family here in Rome.

Applause shook both girls from their thoughts, and Lorne smiled at the assembled crowd, pleased to see the Slayer among their number. “Thank you. This last song is by special request, something a friend of mine asked me to sing to his lady fair if I ever saw her again.” Red eyes seemed to burn into hazel as the demon locked gazes with the Slayer. “This was their song, and he wanted her to know that nothing had changed, that he died loving her and that he'll always be there to help her fly.”

He began to sing, starting soft and low, a soft “Awww” rising from several in the crowd as they recognized the tune:

_It must have been cold there in my shadow,_  
to never have sunlight on your face.  
You were content to let me shine, that's your way.  
You always walked a step behind.

_So I was the one with all the glory,_  
while you were the one with all the strain.  
A beautiful face without a name, for so long.  
A beautiful smile to hide the pain.

_Did you ever know that you're my hero,_  
and everything I would like to be?  
I can fly higher than an eagle,  
for you are the wind beneath my wings. 

Buffy’s eyes shone with unshed tears. She had no doubt who the song had come from, or who it was meant for. He was right, as he'd always been: she had relied on his love, his trust, his unfaltering belief in her, and with them, she'd flown to the stars and back. Had she somehow known that, sitting on his lap in Giles’ apartment? Was that why she'd refused to back down when it came to the song she'd chosen? The same one the demon sang now, his voice stirring her soul as it broke her heart.

_It might have appeared to go unnoticed,_  
but I've got it all here in my heart.  
I want you to know I know the truth, of course I know it.  
I would be nothing without you.

_Did you ever know that you're my hero?_  
You're everything I wish I could be.  
I could fly higher than an eagle,  
for you are the wind beneath my wings. 

Willow listened in silence, remembering Tara’s sweet smile, thinking how this song would have been perfect for her. A soft, choked sound from Buffy told volumes about where the Slayer’s mind was, and she slid her hand into her friend’s, giving her an understanding squeeze and receiving one in return. The two girls stood listening to the song, the hustle and bustle that was Rome forgotten as the ghosts of their loved ones gathered close to their hearts and memories

_Did I ever tell you you're my hero?_  
You're everything, everything I wish I could be.  
Oh, and I, I could fly higher than an eagle,  
for you are the wind beneath my wings,  
'cause you are the wind beneath my wings.

_Oh, the wind beneath my wings._  
You, you, you, you are the wind beneath my wings.  
Fly, fly, fly away. You let me fly so high.  
Oh, you, you, you, the wind beneath my wings.  
Oh, you, you, you, the wind beneath my wings. 

Lorne’s voice soared, wrapping about the crowd that stood as though spellbound before him. He closed his eyes, picturing his friends as he'd last seen them: the quiet realization of death in Wesley’s stance, the cocky, streetwise tone in Gunn’s voice, the steely determination of Angel’s jaw, and the blazing blue of Spike’s eyes when he'd cornered Lorne just before they all left. _“Listen, if you make it through an’ I don't, tell the Slayer, wouldja? Seems she deserves to know, even if it is a little on the late side.”_

_Fly, fly, fly high against the sky,_  
so high I almost touch the sky.  
Thank you, thank you,  
thank God for you, the wind beneath my wings. 

Tears were streaming down Buffy's cheeks when he finished, her hands shaking so badly that she couldn't manage to applaud along with the rest of the crowd. She closed her eyes, turning her face to the sky, lips moving in a soundless echo of the last stanza, giving thanks for the unlife and death of Spike. As she did so, a breeze slid through her hair, and it seemed she could feel his hand, smoothing the strands he'd always admired, getting that one last touch in. The thought of never seeing him again, never having him touch her or smile at her or call her silly British names broke the floodgates that had been dammed ever since she left Sunnydale, and she began to sob in earnest.

Willow caught her as she crumpled to the pavement, putting her arms around her friend and holding her. Buffy had needed this, she thought, remembering the way she and Xander and even Giles, in his own way, had tried to get the Slayer to let it out. But she had maintained her usual carefree demeanor, said often enough that she wasn't going to look back that eventually, they'd stopped talking. Now it seemed Lorne had done what no one else could, with Spike's last gift to Buffy.

When the sobs subsided, Willow gave her one last hug, and then helped her up. The green demon had moved to stand over by the fountain, and was looking into the flowing water, obviously giving them some time to collect their emotions before approaching. Buffy swayed a little, the rush of feelings making her a little unsteady, but she gathered herself up and walked over to him.

"This is something, isn't it?" he commented, not looking at her but fishing a coin from his pocket. "Well, I always wanted to see Rome, so I guess I'd better toss this in and make my wish, guarantee myself a trip back."

"I guess." She folded her arms across her chest, not sure how to begin. There were so many questions she wanted answers to, so much that she didn't know. "Was he... I mean, did he -"

"He never felt a thing, crumbcake. None of them did - it happened too fast. Just a rush of demons and it was over."

"Oh. I mean, that's good… I suppose." It wasn't quite what she'd been meaning to ask, but she was grateful to hear that they didn't suffer, even if it was a lie.

"I have something for you, if you're ready for it." Lorne watched the Slayer intently, his red eyes seeming to measure whether she could handle the offering that he'd been entrusted with.

She nodded, not fully trusting herself to speak, and when he took her hand and slipped a small metal object into it, she bit her lip, struggling to keep the tears at bay. The demon's somewhat cool expression melted and he took her into his embrace, stroking her hair and murmuring, "That's all right, you just cry as much as you need to. He loved you, sweet cheeks, and he wanted you to have that to remember him by."

For several long moments, Buffy sobbed against him. She couldn't help wishing with all her might that it was a different set of arms holding her, a cooler body against hers, a rougher voice than the crooning tones. As she hiccupped to a stop, she drew back and gave him a watery smile. "I'm sorry; I didn't mean to cry all over you like that."

"Think nothing of it. You're just lucky I look as good in dark yellow as I do in light." He laughed, brushing one sleeve off in a pretend show of vanity, and somewhat haltingly, she followed suit.

"Listen, muffin. You'll be all right. I'd love to stay and take you two beautiful girls out to dinner, but I have a hunch your Immortal's on his way, and he might not take too kindly to someone moving in on his territory."

"But I'm not -"

"I don't think he sees it like that, kitten. Anyway, I'm staying at the Modigliani for a couple of days, so feel free to drop by if you want to talk or do a little sight-seeing, all right?"

"I will, and thank you." Buffy gave him a hug in a rare display of affection, but she felt she had to do something in return for all he'd just done for her. Lorne gave her a squeeze, then released her and moved over to Willow, taking both her hands in his. He talked too low to be overheard, but whatever he said earned him another hug and a promise that they'd see him soon.

"_Cara_, you are late, but I must admit, you are too beautiful for me to ever hold it against you." A lilting voice sounded behind her, and an arm encircled her waist as Marc nuzzled her neck. "Are you ready to go now? We have reservations at seven."

Buffy gently disentangled herself, turning to look at him. Nobody could ever deny that he was beautiful, and he'd been nothing but gentle and understanding with her after she'd explained what happened with her last relationship. But she saw now that she had been trying to hide from herself and her heart and she couldn't do it any longer. Raising her free hand up to lay on one of his cheeks, she smiled. "I'm sorry, Marc. I can't keep doing this. You're a really great guy, but I can't see you anymore."

To her surprise, he shrugged. "I rather expected this. I was hoping that you might decide that I was worth spending time with, but I understand. I will cherish the memory of you, Buffy Summers, and count myself fortunate to always call you my friend, if I may?"

Buffy gaped at him for a moment. No trying to talk her out of it, no appeal to her heart, no words of love or need? Jeez, she'd never understand these European men, if they let women walk out on them this easy! Unbidden came the memory of Spike's pleas, his endless attempts to win her over, his constant presence at her side, and she nodded. "Of course we'll stay friends. Perhaps we can do dinner another night. Call me sometime and we'll set it up, okay?"

_"Naturalement."_ Marc drifted away, a raised finger summoning the ever-present flunky to his side. There was always another woman available, and while she would not have the prestige of being the Slayer, he was sure she would have other virtues that could be made easily accessible to him, with the right words.

Buffy turned and stared at the Trevi for long moments. Willow's hand on her arm made her aware of her friend's presence, and she offered a reassuring smile, or at least as close as she could come to one at the moment. "Are - are you okay? Do you need to go watch some chick flicks and get ice cream or something?"

"I'm fine, Wills. I just… need a minute or two. Do you mind picking something up? I'll meet you back at the apartment, if that's okay."

She nodded. "No need to ask twice. I'll even see if Gino has that chocolate chocolate-chip gelato you like so much."

Buffy smiled. There wasn't much that Gino's homemade gelato wouldn't help feel better. He liked to say that he'd been a part of every break-up in Rome, and she was willing to bet that he wasn't wrong. "Thanks, Will. I'll be home soon."

"Don't worry about it." With a quick hug, the redhead headed down the street, privately resolving to beg Gino to whip up a batch of Buffy's favorite if he didn't have it. She doubted it would be that hard - after all, he was always saying the both of them needed to 'put some more meat on your bones'.

Buffy looked down at Spike's present, grateful that she had something, however small, of his, some piece of him both to keep with her and to show that there had once been a vampire who was one hell of a man. A flash of white caught her eye, and she tugged a piece of paper free, the old-fashioned, flowing script making her tear up at the sight of it, the memory of teasing him about how neatly he wrote after once mistaking it for Giles' when she'd found a notebook in the crypt rising up to make her laugh softly.

_I love you, Buffy. Did I ever tell you you're my hero?_

She ran one thumb over the silver lighter, worn smooth from age and use, taking a shaky breath. Looking up at the stars, she smiled and said softly, "No, you didn't. But thanks for saying it."


End file.
